


Bittersweet

by BAnonymous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BAnonymous/pseuds/BAnonymous
Summary: The love scenes between Fenris and Garret Hawke, told from the point of view of Fenris as he sorts through his feelings for Hawke. So many feelings...The title of this piece is named after the song Bittersweet by Apocalyptica.**New Bonus Chapter added! Nov. 7th 2017





	1. Year 3 - Behind Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler alert! Some of the dialogue, situations, people/places are directly out of the game. I do not own the Dragon Age games, but am a huge fan. This is one bit of fiction to help myself make sense of the character of Fenris, and but one interpretation of what may have happened. I hope you enjoy!

Fenris had been staring at the same pebble on the ground for hours. People walked by, he could feel their curious eyes as they passed, but none approached nor spoke to him. If he was less numb, he might have found their stares annoying, or had been grateful for the solitude, but not now. Now he just sat there, outside of Hawke’s estate and glaring at the mocking pebble as his thoughts spiraled through his mind.

He had a sister… Hadriana had said that. It could have been a ruse, an attempt to save her own life. Fenris sneered at the face she had made when his hand closed around her viscous heart…

His stomach lurched. There it was again. Ever since he had killed her he kept going from gratified to feeling sick. What was wrong with him? Three years ago he wouldn't have felt anything but pride at taking her life. But that was before _he’d_ walked into his life…

That Hawke had seen him kill that bitch, and had even tried to comfort him while her blood still ran fresh between his fingers... He bit back the bile that stuck in his throat. Fenris had been so enraged; he was ashamed at how he had spoken to his friend whom had stood by him all this time. It should have felt good to kill her. So why was he so angry? It was too much, so he did what he did best: he left. He just left his companions in a potentially dangerous cave, found a stream to wash off the blood in, and headed home to get drunk. Or at least he thought he had. Instead he found himself here, waiting at his friend’s doorstep like a stray dog hoping for scraps. He needed to apologize, say something, _do_ something, but he hadn’t a clue as to what.

So there he sat, stewing in his anger, shame and confusion, where nothing made sense except to be here. 

Someone approached and Fenris knew who it was without looking. After spending the last few years following him, the elf knew those footsteps as well as his own. He looked up to see Hawke stop before him. He expected him to look furious, perhaps annoyed, or to say some witty albeit cutting remark, but he only looked concerned and calmly opened the door for him to come inside. The shame deepened as Fenris quietly accepted his friend’s offer and went in. He was being kind, and that did not sit well with the elf.

Fenris went into the drawing room and placed his sword by the entrance as he heard Hawke greet Bodhan and his son. They exchanged a few words and he overheard Hawke give them some money to take the ex-slave they had rescued, Orliana, to get anything she might need for her position in their household. He then instructed them to use the extra money to treat them all to a nice dinner and some entertainment to welcome her to her new home. Bodhan accepted the task and praised Hawke’s generosity. _He was right_ , thought Fenris as a small smile snuck in. _He was a generous soul, and far to good to his friends._

He heard the front door click and the voices of the cheerful Bodhan, the excited Sandal and the bewildered Orliana were soon gone. A few minutes later, Hawke walked into the drawing room where he waited, his mage armor replaced by his casual home attire. The transformation never ceased to amaze Fenris; how he could be killing abominations, slave dealers and even dragons one moment, then come home and change into a gentleman in the same afternoon. Fenris envied that, for he could never be at ease. Even at his “home,” for lack of a better word, he still wore his armor. 

“I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana,” Fenris started, filling the silence. He was suddenly nervous, but didn’t know why. “I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was… not myself. I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it,” replied Hawke with a smirk. 

“But you shouldn’t have to be.” Agitated, Fenris paced the room. “When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond and she knew it.” The rancor at her deeds seeped into his words. “The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now… I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't.”

Hawke looked confused, “What do you mean?”

Fenris struggled to find the words. “This hate… I thought I had gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they that planted it inside me… it was too much to bear.” There it was again, the hot rage at his old masters, the very ones that made him kill the Fog Warriors and anyone else they labeled an enemy. In battle it invigorated him, made him more dangerous and deadly. But in the quiet of his mansion, or the stillness at night, it was exhausting. The memories would merely swirl about in an unending chorus of pain in his mind like a bitter melody stuck in his head. The only way to quiet it was when he drank. Sometimes it would be better when he was with Varric or Isabela: their jolly dispositions were rather distracting, even for him. The only person that could make him forget for a few moments what those mages had done to him, was the very mage standing before him. The irony was not lost to him. 

Ever since that fateful night, when a sass-mouthed mage had helped him kill those slavers, he had done things he never imagined doing before. To call a mage his best friend? To fight by his side to protect _other_ mages? Inconceivable. They rarely agreed on anything, and yet the elf depended on him, shared things about himself he had never told anyone else. He enjoyed their quiet moments drinking and talking; of Hawke making him laugh, and yes, even when he made fun of his brooding demeanor. For him to stand there, silent, kind and unafraid even when seeing him at his worst… After all that Fenris had done, it was so much more than he deserved. _He_ was so much more than he deserved. 

_If only..._

Fenris could feel something shaking inside of him, and suddenly the spikes on his armor didn’t feel like enough to keep everything out. He had to get out of there. “But I didn’t come here to burden you further.” He turned to leave, to return to his hole and come out again when he wasn’t feeling so raw.

“You don’t have to go.” Hawke touched his shoulder, and Fenris felt the sharp snap of his defenses. He growled like a wounded wolf as the lyrium in his body flared. It was instinct, survival. Before he knew what was happening, he had Hawke pinned against the far wall. Fenris saw surprise flash across the mage’s face. _Soon it would turn to anger_ , he knew. _Even without a staff Hawke had his magic and could use it on me easily. Let him try. Let them fight and scrape and tear the room apart –_

Fenris’s rage stopped cold the moment Hawke’s lips found his. It only lasted a moment, just long enough for the shock to wilt the lyrium charged through his body. Hawke drew back, a little breathless, his mouth soft… and waiting.

Just as fast as the lyrium had flashed, so had something else inside of Fenris. Something far deeper that made his blood run hot. He lunged, he caught Hawke’s mouth with his own with a low growl and began to, not so much kiss, but devour him. Tongue and teeth fought for dominance as he held Hawke’s head prisoner. _Fight me_ , he thought. _Fight me, push me away and command me to go. I will heed, just say it… do it, send me away… please…_

Hawke pushed him back, and Fenris thought somehow he had heard him, but instead Hawke spun him around and pushed him hard into the wall where he had been pinned only a moment before. Then the mage returned, his body close, his breath hot, Hawke snaked his fingers through his white hair and pulled him in for another kiss. But it was not a battle, he did not fight him nor did he back down. Something melted in Fenris as Hawke touched him with tenderness, his lips sweet, and his tongue gently lapped his own. Fenris moaned at his taste, and deepened the kiss further, his hands running down the mage’s back. With nothing but the soft cotton to cover him, Fenris could feel the man’s muscles just beneath, warm and strong. Hawke purred into his mouth as the elf stroked lower and cupped his firm buttocks, drawing his hips into his own. Hawke moaned as his growing hardness rubbed against the armor plating, and the sound was sweet as Fenris softly ground against him, careful of his pressure. He kissed and sucked along his neck as Hawke unabashedly groaned his pleasure and moved his hips in time with his. Fenris could feel his own desire growing; soon his layers would be too uncomfortable to bear. _I should stop_ , he reasoned, even as he continued to rub his pelvis into the beautiful man in his arms. _I should go, this has already gone too far. If I don’t stop, I’ll…_

Hawke kissed him again, long and heated before drawing back. He met Fenris’s eyes and smiled. He coyly took Fenris’s clawed hand and gently drew him out of the room. Like a man possessed, he felt himself following the mage through the hall, up the stairway and into his bedchamber. There was a fire lit, and it cast a warm glow throughout the room. The elf’s knees felt a little weak, his breath was slightly shaken. Fenris had been here before on many visits, but never had he felt so vulnerable as he did right then. _I cannot allow this_ , his dark wolf told him, _we cannot allow ourselves to feel. Use him. Leave him. Before he leaves you._

The door closed with a click and then Hawke came to him, his eyes bright and his lips softly smiling. Hawke reached for him, and Fenris snatched his hands in a firm grip before they could touch him. 

The mage was startled as he looked at him, puzzled.

“Fenris, what’s –“

Fenris released one hand to gently silence him with a slight touch of his finger to Hawke’s sensual mouth. He slowly leaned forward and leisurely licked the line of Hawke’s kiss-swollen lips. He felt the mage quiver, and Fenris growled in appreciation. That seemed to make Hawke even more excited, as the flesh in his neck flushed and his breath quickened. He traced his clawed fingers from the mage’s chin, down the column of his throat and into the v of his neckline. He could see Hawke’s throat working as he began to shudder in anticipation. 

Hawke gasped as, in one swift movement, Fenris shredded through the sash holding his cotton tunic in place. With the torn sash lying uselessly on the floor, the tunic parted, leaving a very appealing display of Hawke’s toned muscles.

“ _Andraste’s tits, Fenris!_ A little warning next time? I almost soiled myself –“

“Get on the bed,” Fenris commanded.

Hawke looked at him incredulously. “Would a ‘please’ kill you?”

Fenris stepped in close as Hawke stood his ground, his steady gaze never wavering. He could feel the heat from the mage’s body through his armor to his core. _He knows. He has to. I could hurt him so easily, break him and bloody him with a swipe of my hand, and yet he stands there half naked and looks at me with such cheeky tenacity. No one is so brash as to stand up to a man like me._

_Does he know what a relief it is not to be feared?_

“Please,” Fenris whispered. He had meant it to come out ironically, but instead it came out as a plea. _Damnation, what is happening to me…?_

Hawke smiled and calmly walked to the bed, shedding his tunic and boots as he went. Fenris stared as the mage crawled up the bed and lay on his back, his elbows propped as he waited for the elf’s next move.

Fenris stalked forward, keeping his movements slow yet purposeful. He stopped at the edge and gently grasped Hawke’s ankles. When he made no move to get away, the elf slowly pulled the mage down to the edge of the mattress until his knees bent over the edge. Hawke lay there, lips moist and eyes heated as he observed how Fenris opened his legs and gazed down at him. The elf knelt before him and ogled Hawke’s arousal straining through the cotton trousers he wore. He rubbed his palms up and down the mage’s widened thighs and he could feel them tremble as he watched his erection get just a little bigger…

“I could have a portrait made, if you’d like?” Drawled Hawke sarcastically. Fenris smiled and looked up. 

“I would treasure such a gift, but I’m not sure I’d appreciate sharing the sight with anyone else.” Without further ado, he cupped Hawke’s bulge. Hawke gasped and arched back with a groan. Fenris loved watching his face and body react as he palmed the engorged flesh and to feel it grow hotter and firmer under his touch. He was careful that his claws did not touch him, but his lover’s hips were starting to move of their own accord. Fenris stopped and Hawke gave a small whine.

“Ah, Fenris, please…” The elf responded by softly kissing his belly just above the lacing of his trousers. He undid each laced cord one by one, kissing and tasting every inch of flesh revealed, listening to Hawke hum in pleasure. Fenris undid the final cord and could feel Hawke’s arousal brushing under his chin as he gave a lingering kiss just above his pelvis. All that remained between them was the thin clothe of Hawke’s underwear. Fenris hooked the edge of the material and drew it down to reveal what lay beneath. He looked down at the tumescent flesh and admired the strength and girth it possessed, the blood within making it dark and ready. Fenris spared one look to Hawke, whom was observing him very intently. Fenris gave him a wicked smile before running the flat of his tongue along his length and drew him into his mouth. 

A desperate moan tore through Hawke’s throat as Fenris sucked him strongly; his thickness made it difficult to not get him with his teeth, so he switched to suckling the tip and flicking his tongue along his slit. As Hawke continued to moan beneath him, he felt the mage’s hand in his hair. As soon as he touched him, a surge of energy poured through his head and down through his body, and for a moment, his lyrium glowed.

With a startled shout, Fenris staggered back from the bed, his breath coming out in gasps as the panic seized his heart. _I’m back. The mages have me chained down. The air is foul with the smell of my flesh roasting as they burn the lyrium into me. The pain is excruciating, but I can’t move, only scream…_

“What’s wrong?” He heard the bed creak as Hawke walked over. “Fenris, what happened?” Hawke touched his arm, only to have a Fenris knock it away.

“What was that?!” Fenris demanded.

“What was what?”

“ _That!_ I felt something, from your hands. Some sort of magic, it went right through me.”

Hawke’s eyes widened and then looked sheepish. “Oh, Fen. I’m sorry, that happens sometimes. My magic can be influenced by my emotions, and sometimes when my defenses are a little… vulnerable, my powers can leak out a bit. Occasionally it happens, well, during something like this.” He gestured to the bed. “It's just energy, and its never harmed anyone I’ve been intimate with, but then, you are a special case.” He gave a dry laugh, but another glance at the elf’s face quickly suppressed it. “Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

Fenris’s heart rate had slowed, the flashbacks had stopped and he looked at his hands. The marks were no longer glowing, and everything seemed to be the same as before. “No, I don’t think so. It just brought up… unpleasant memories.”

“I am sorry. I promise, I’ll keep a cork on it, so to speak.” Hawke cleared his throat and casually placed his hands on his hips. “Do you… do you want to stop?”

It was almost comical, Hawke “standing to attention,” attempting to speak as if he was asking about the weather. Fenris found that unnervingly comforting. How easy it was to be around this passionate, goofy and complicated man. 

Fenris smiled a little, and drew Hawke in for a small and tender kiss. He felt the mage’s hand trace along his cheek, and when he felt no magic in his touch, the tension he still held fell away.

“Alright, mage,” he said playfully. “Back to the bed with you.”

Hawke gave a cheeky grin and lay back down. “May I?” He asked, indicating his trousers.

Fenris gave him a smoldering look. “Please.”

Hawke slid out of his trousers and underwear until he lay upon the bed entirely nude. Fenris stepped closer as his eyes took in every muscle, scar, and inch of skin. He had always known Hawke to be a handsome man, but seeing him like this, naked, aroused and waiting, he was utterly extraordinary.

“You _are_ going to undress sometime, right?” Asked Hawke. “Unlike Isabela, I would prefer to make love to you in something less… pointy.”

Fenris laughed. “Do you not find my armor appealing?”

“On the contrary, I’ve been admiring your armor for the last three years. I’ve had a lot of time to imagine how it would look on my floor. Care to show me?”

 _This man…_ The elf grinned, and held Hawke’s gaze as he undid his utility belt. His clawed gauntlet’s were next, and then his breastplate and shoulder spiked guards. He undid the buttons on his tunic and watched Hawke’s eyes dilate as they followed the path of skin revealed with each one. He knew he could see the lyrium line that ran down his sternum and flowed through his ribs and belly. Fenris could name the few people he had ever shown his markings to, and he was about to add Garret Hawke’s name to that list. The buttons done, he removed the tunic. He then undid the knot holding his leather leggings up and slid out of them easily to join the pile. There he stood, like a statue in the firelight, bare to Hawke’s gaze as he looked upon the tattoos that swirled through his narrow hips and down his long legs. And how Hawke openly stared at his obvious arousal. 

Seeking to lighten the tension, Fenris spoke. “Is it all that you had imagined?” He said jokingly as he gestured to the pile on the floor.

“Maker’s breath, Fenris,” he replied, awe enriching his tone. “There are no words, no words to describe how bafflingly beautiful you are.”

He didn’t know why, but those words spoken so openly and completely without mockery, almost made him want to cry.

Hawke beckoned with an outstretched hand. “Come here.”

Fenris complied, and crawled upon the mattress up the lean length of Hawke’s body. He felt the mage’s fingertips start at his bottom lip and then gently trace down the lines of his lyrium scars. He knew he meant nothing by it, but ugly memories began to surface. He took Hawke's curious hand and pinned it to the bed as he roughly plundered Hawke’s mouth. Fenris’s body slipped between Hawke’s thighs and began to rub his cock against his, eliciting a groan from both of them. He kissed Hawke until he had to come up for air, but unrelentingly ground himself into him. Fenris bit his lower lip as Hawke’s heated hands cupped his buttocks to draw him closer.

“Ah… ah... Fenris,” moaned the man beneath him. “I need you. Take me… take me please…”

The elf stopped to move Hawke’s hand to his cock. Fenris undulated into the mage’s hand and grunted as he felt his fingers firmly curl around his member.

“You want this?” Fenris growled hotly.

Hawke nodded as he rubbed up and down Fenris’s length. “Yes.”

“Then you shall have it.” He punctuated by kissing Hawke with renewed vigor.

Hawke eventually drew back with a chuckle. “Although, we’re going to need a little help. I should have known you couldn’t be that freakishly strong without carrying not one huge sword, but _two_! But I have just the thing…” Hawke turned over to grab something off of his bedside, giving a very tempting view of his backside. The elf suddenly had a primal urge to sink his teeth into that perfect flesh when Hawke turned back around. He handed him a glass vial of oil. “Here, use this.”

Fenris undid the cork and smelled inside. It was earthy and a little floral, like a garden. The scent was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. “What is this from?”

“Embrium petals. Anders makes it; apparently it's good for the skin, but it is also very nice for, _other things_.” He gave his eyebrows a waggle.

“Well,” drawled Fenris as he tested the slickness, “it looks like he’s finally found a way to make himself useful. Turn over.”

Hawke obliged, his thighs opened readily.

“Wider,” instructed Fenris.

Hawke obliged again, and settled in with a sigh. The elf smiled as he ran his eyes over Hawke’s body. Most mages he knew were thin, weak creatures, barely able to take a single blow let alone fight all day in battle. But _this_ mage… He was like no other; his magic was strong, but he was remarkably resilient, his muscles lean and powerful like a warrior’s and he could run for hours without tiring. Fenris had often found himself staring at the champion’s well toned backside while they travelled, and now he was here - naked and his, trusting and magnificent. Fenris gently ran his fingers down between the mage’s shoulder blades and he bit back a groan as he felt his tumescent flesh tighten. _So soft… for his skin to be so smooth after all these years, it was remarkable…_ The elf replaced his fingertips with his mouth as he hungrily drank the salt on his skin. Hawke sighed into the blankets. Fenris’s mouth went lower, following the path of his spine with his tongue and a hint of teeth. He would occasionally feel the man under him shudder, and when he put his tongue to the base of his spine, Hawke’s hips undulated with a soft moan. Fenris began to explore his derrière with his mouth, his thumbs tracing the back of his thighs as he kissed and nibbled. Hawke began to moan again, his pelvis rolling forward to grind himself into the mattress. Fenris traced the tip of his tongue along the crease of his buttocks, earning him another delicious sound of approval. Suddenly feeling very wicked, Fenris grinned before sucking a bit of Hawke’s perfect buttocks into his mouth and taking a small bite with a growl.

Hawke’s reaction was immediate, as something between a groan and a shriek came out and his whole body jumped.

“ _Maker’s breath!_ ” He gasped. “Damnit, Fen, any more teasing like that and this is going to finish before we even get started.” At first Fenris thought he had done something wrong, until… “I have not waited for this for three years just to _come_ on top of my bedsheets like an adolescent.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You liked it then?”

“ _Yes!_ For fuck’s sake, I liked it. I liked it so much I almost embarrassed myself. Please, Fenris, have a heart and just take me already.”

Fenris grinned. “As you wish.” He took the embrium oil and poured a generous amount in his hand and warmed it between his palms.

Hawke opened his thighs again, and Fenris slid his oiled hand from the top of his crack all the way down to the back of his balls. He rubbed up and down as Hawke squirmed.

“Fenris –“ Hawke warned.

“Settle down,” said Fenris, and then probed Hawke’s hole.

The mage groaned into the mattress, his hands grasping the covers. Fenris’s finger oscillated the rim, slowly going in and circling little by little. Hawke tried to thrust back, but Fenris held him in place. One finger slid in shortly followed by a second digit. He crooked his finger and rubbed inside, making Hawke grind down hard into the mattress.

“Holy fucking Andraste, please do that again!”

The elf did so, again and again as Hawke rubbed his desperate arousal against the bedcovers, seeking friction. Sweat was breaking out all over Hawke’s skin, and he was beginning to gleam in the firelight. “Get on your knees, Hawke.” The mage pushed up onto his hands and lifted his hips eagerly. Fenris removed his fingers and thrust in with his thumb. In and out it went as Hawke thrust against him, but when Fenris began to stroke the back of his balls at the same time, Hawke gave a beautifully wanton moan. He watched the muscles move under the simmering skin of his lover, and felt him tremble from the inside… 

“Fen… Fen please come inside me, please!”

Fenris leaned over him, proceeding to thrust and stroke with his hands as he began to whisper into Hawke’s ear.

“Tell me, Hawke. Have you really waited for this for three years?”

“Damn it, Fen –“ 

“Tell me.”

“Yes! It's not like I’ve been subtle! I’ve only flirted with you at every opportunity…” he gave an exasperated sigh as he moved his hips into the elf’s hands. “Fen, I’m ready, please…”

Fenris could feel that he was much more open now, and frankly, his own arousal had become more insistent with every moan Hawke had uttered. He coated his length in the oil and gave a shaky sigh as he slowly slipped into Hawke’s velvet heat, taking his time and loving the sensation of him contracting around his cock as he inched in.

Hawke’s breath turned sharp and he tried to thrust back. “Easy,” soothed Fenris through clenched teeth, “easy…” within a few more thrusts, he was fully inside, trembling as he waited for Hawke to become accustomed. He could feel perspiration trickle down his back as he fought the urge to bear down, to get lost in his heat and rut into him like an animal. No, he knelt there as Hawke’s body quivered and eventually began to relax. Hawke made the first move, going forward and then slammed back into Fenris. Hawke cried out a little as Fenris doubled over with a low groan. The elf recovered his breath, and set the pace, long and slow, the mage meeting him with every thrust as he softly mewed.

“… Oh… oh Fen… ah... It was your voice…” 

“What?” Gasped Fenris, his mind buzzing and breath harsh as his cock throbbed with every stroke.

“I wanted you the moment you spoke… ah… ah… I thought you… you had the sexiest voice… I’d ever heard...” Hawke’s voice was sensually ragged, his every word sending fire down Fenris’s body.

He grasped Hawke’s hips tighter, his thrusts becoming sharper as he thrust deeper still. His lungs burned as he gasped for air; his heart was pounding in his head, and if that mage kept talking he was going to lose his mind...

“Oh fuck,” moaned Hawke, his hands shredding the bed covers. “Ah! Ah! Ahhh… sometimes… when I’d touch myself… I would … _Ah!_ … just imagine your voice…”

Fenris gave a low moan. Unable to hold back anymore, he pulled out and flipped Hawke onto his back. He caught his hips and speared himself in to the hilt.

Hawke have a long shout, and clung to the elf as Fenris proceeded to plow into him, their flesh slapping together as the bed groaned from the strain.

“Yes! Yes yes yes… _ahhhh!!_ ” Fenris felt him clench around him as his wetness erupted between them. He continued to thrust even as Hawke softened beneath him. Fenris cried out as Hawke lightly pinched his nipples and then sucked on his shoulder. Fenris buried his face into the crook of Hawke’s shoulder, his scent filling his senses. His body tightened as it threatened to unravel; he felt his eyes screw tight, he moaned through clenched teeth. _This can’t end… I don’t want it to end…_

“Come for me, Fenris,” whispered the mage, his breath hot in his ear. “Come… come…”

Fenris plunged his tongue into Hawke's willing lips and gave a low moan into his mouth as he ground his pelvis in and finally let out a shuddering sigh as everything poured out of him. He felt his arms weaken, and Hawke was there to catch him as they breathed heavily.

“By the Maker…” breathed Hawke. “That was so… worth the wait.”

If Fenris could have used his brain yet, he may have replied. But instead, he gave a few kisses to Hawke's chest as he lifted himself over to the side and lay heavily on the bed. _This mattress is more comfortable than the one in the mansion,_ he thought absently…

_“Wake up, Leto!” Said the voice. He ignored it, he didn’t want to get up._

__

_“Leto, wake up!” Something jumped on him, knocking the air out. He saw a small elvish girl with flaming red hair in braids sitting on his chest._

__

__

_Suddenly the girl was gone, and he was at breakfast with an elven woman with dark hair and tired eyes..._

__

_Then his master was there, testing his strength and endurance. “He will do,” he had said…_

__

_Then he was playing with children, some were elves, others were human. One human girl had blonde hair and freckles and had kissed his cheek when he gave her a blood lotus flower…_

__

_He made his first kill, his master would be proud…_

__

_His sister with the red hair had cut her hand while cooking. Master was going to need to get a doctor…_

__

_Mother is crying; didn’t she understand he had to do this? It was the only way to get them a better life?..._

__

_The man’s blood was still pumping out of his heart as he held it within his hand. What power these markings have given him…_

__

_The mages didn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop. He screamed and screamed for them to stop. Why won’t they stop?!_

__

_More and more images came. His family, his friends, his trainers and his master and his kills. The lyrium and the Fog Warriors, all the way up to the moment he fell sweating into Hawke’s arms._

_What has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled?_

 

_You…_

 

Fenris jerked awake, his wild eyes frantically taking in the unfamiliar room. As the drowsiness cleared, the evening’s goings-on came back to him. _Hawke..._ This was Hawke’s bedroom. Fenris glanced over to find him soundly asleep beside him. 

Fenris pushed the covers away (that apparently Hawke had put on him when he had passed out) and sat up. He rubbed the fresh sweat from his face as he cradled his pounding head. He had been dreaming, no, remembering. Those things had been real, he was certain. He had a sister and a mother, and they had called him… they had called him something… and there was a girl, or there were… friends? Damn it, _damn it!_ It was slipping away. Everything was slipping away. He was so close, _so close…_

He got up. He continued to probe his memory, but the more he grasped, the quicker they slipped away, until there was nothing but a vague sense of loss. He had not thought it possible, but Fenris suddenly felt more alone than he had before...

But he wasn’t alone. He looked at Hawke, lying there so peacefully. He looked young as he slept, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. No nightmares to plague him. No demons to slay. Well, no personal ones, anyway. Fenris would give anything to sleep like the mage did.

 _The mage._ Fucking damnation, what had he done…

Suddenly feeling utterly uncomfortable, Fenris found his armor on the floor where he had left it and got dressed. He made sure every button, fasten and clamp was back in place; it was strange, usually he always felt a sense of power whenever he’d put his armor on, but this time it did very little to ease the feeling of being exposed. Open. Vulnerable. Like a wound that would not heal. He was such a fool. A twisted, murderous fool. Fenris had tried to scare him away, tried fighting him, fucking him, but instead had made love to him. Hawke didn’t deserve someone like him. He deserved someone whole, and not… broken.

That’s exactly what he was, Fenris sneered cruelly. A broken toy for a magic wielding madman that hunted him to this day. Now he was the broken companion to a magic wielding champion; one that he would gladly die for, or kill for if he asked. Danarius may have had dominion over his body, but Hawke had dominion over his heart.

 _“The chains are broken but are you truly free?”_ The Flemeth woman’s words rang in his head like an alarm bell. Is this all his life has amounted to? Had he won his freedom only to trade one set of chains for another…?

The thought overwhelmed him. Terrified him. Was he never to be anything but a slave? _Who am I?_ He turned to the fire and stared into the flames. _Who am I?_ The flames flicked, cracked and danced before him as he watched. Something about the color of the fire stirred a memory, but for the life of him he could not recall. It only he could remember… _who am I?_

“Was it that bad?”

Fenris turned to see Hawke propped up in bed, the blankets barely covering him and his skin illuminated by the fire. He knew the sight would be burned into his mind just as the lyrium was branded into his skin. _I am such a fool..._

“I’m sorry, it's not… it was fine,” he replied stupidly. _Damn it all..._ “No, that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed.”

Hawke’s brows furrowed. “Was it too strange to be with another man?” He asked carefully.

Fenris shook his head. “It's not that.” He paced a little, finding the words. “I began to remember. My life before. Just flashes...” Panic began to creep in. _Trapped…trapped…_ “Its too much. This is too fast. I cannot do this…” 

“Your life before,” Hawke sat upright. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were… faces. Words.” He rubbed his brows, as though trying to clear the dust for the clarity that lay beneath. “For just a moment, I could recall all of it. And then it slipped away.” _Just like everything else in my life._

“If it brings your memory back,” Hawke drawled suggestively, “maybe we need to do it more often.”

“Perhaps you don’t realize how upsetting this is. I’ve never remembered anything, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it…” he stared miserably into the fire, but it had no answers to give. “I can’t…” he pleaded. “ I can’t.”

“We can work through this.” 

Fenris had to get out of there; Hawke’s words and wounded face was breaking his heart. _As if you have a heart to break._ This was not his fault, but Fenris knew he wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t even sure _he_ did…

“I’m sorry. I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy… just for a little while. Forgive me.” He did not wait for a reply. He took his sword and left, carrying the look of Hawke’s sad eyes with him.

_Something to remember him by._


	2. Year 6 - Next to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Fenris’s confrontation with Danarius. This chapter is named after Next to Me by Imagine Dragons.

“You don’t have to stay in this dreary place, you know,” said Isabela, gesturing to the run down and gloomy surroundings of Fenris’s study, lit only by the fire they sat in front of. “You could come with me if you want. Now that I have my ship back I could use someone like you. We can go anywhere we want. What do you say?”

He was touched by the gesture. “I appreciate the thought. But it's not so bad here. Besides,” his mind flashed to Hawke, “I like the view.”

The pirate stood and looked at him with that unfiltered predatory gaze of her’s. “So do I.” With that she sashayed out the door. 

On her way out he saw Hawke approach, and the usual butterflies coiled around in his belly. He thought he would be over it by now, but every time he was alone with him he could picture that night they had together with intense clarity. His smell, his heat, the way he breathed in his ear telling him to come… He had had countless dreams of that night, each time thinking this one would end differently. But each time he woke up he was alone, each time riddled with regret.

He pushed the nervous flutter down deep and the bittersweet memories with them.

“She doesn’t understand. Yes, I am free. Danarius is dead. Yet… it doesn’t feel like it should.” It had been elating and nerve racking when Aveline’s resources had come through with his sister’s whereabouts. When he had asked Hawke to come with him, it was for as much emotional support as it was for back up. _She had called him Leto. His name was Leto…_ Of course it had turned out to be a trap. His little sister had set him up, and who should be waiting there but his old master, Danarius. The battle had been quick, and soon the bastard was dead. But the anger did not go away. He turned his wrath upon his sister, hoping to quench it, to be free of it at last. He would have done it, could have so easily, but Hawke had stopped him. He and the dwarf somehow managed to convince him to spare her, and here he was, sitting in front of his fireplace, really needing a drink, wondering what the hell to do next.

Hawke put his staff to the side and sat down. “Seems like you should be dancing for joy.”

“I would have thought so. I thought if I didn’t need to run and fight to stay alive, I would finally be able to live as a free man does. But how is that? Whatever past I had walked out with my sister. I have nothing now - not even an enemy.”

Hawke shrugged. “Maybe that just means there’s nothing holding you back.”

“Hmm, an interesting thought. It's just… difficult to overlook the stain that magic has left on my life. If I seem bitter, it's not without cause.” Even as he said it, it felt different; more like the ache of a bruise rather than a knife cutting in. When he decided to let his sister live, something important had shifted within him; before she ran away she had said something extraordinary… she said he had not been forced to receive the lyrium, but had volunteered, had even trained and competed for it. That he had considered it the only way to win his and his family’s freedom. Somehow, when she said that, it changed everything. He was still angry of course, but it did bring to mind something he had not considered; the lyrium could be a curse, it was unpredictable and volatile at times, but she had been right – without it he could never have had the strength to escape his slavers. In a way, it had taken his entire life, but in another way, it had given him a new one. One that led him here, now, sitting and talking with the most precious thing he had ever found. Something he had thrown away, but like a sarcastically meddlesome boomerang, the Champion of Kirkwall kept coming into his dreary world and made it better. Made _him_ better. 

_Its been so long, he probably doesn’t feel that way anymore; but I have to know…_ “Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don’t know where that leads. Do you?”

Hawke smiled kindly. “Wherever it leads, I hope it means we stay together.” Fenris relaxed the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as Hawke’s answer warmed him like sunshine. He had given Hawke plenty of reason to shun him, but he had not. Years of regret had been his burden to bear, but the mage had given him hope for redemption.

“That is my hope as well.” Fenris ran his hand through his hair nervously as he moved to stand before Hawke. “We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”

“You didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me – I deserved no less. But it isn’t better. That night… I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.”

Hawke’s brows creased, but his gaze was soft. “I need to understand why you left, Fenris.”

Fenris sighed. “I thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up... It was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt.” 

“What would you have said?” He asked quietly, hopefully.

 _Moment of truth…_ “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.” There, he said it. He’d wanted to say it for six years, and he waited for the panic to set in, for the dark wolf to urge him to fight or fly. 

But the dark wolf was silent, and he was going nowhere.

He detected a slight wavering in Hawke’s gaze, but the mage quickly covered it up with a shrug and an eye roll. “Oh, I don’t know. This might be fun to hold over you a while longer.”

Fenris leaned in close, his tone serious and devout as he let Hawke see the sincerity of his words through his eyes. “If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

Hawke stood and suddenly he was in his arms. Fenris slanted his mouth over his and sighed as their lips parted and he felt Hawke’s tongue greet his own. _He tastes better than I remembered…_

He ran his hands through Hawke’s hair as he felt the mage’s hands run from his shoulders to hips and back again, his body getting as close as possible while their lips reconciled. 

Fenris teased his tongue over Hawke's lower lip before gently capturing it between his teeth, loving the taste and suppleness of his lover’s mouth. Hawke’s moan vibrated clear down to the pool of Fenris’s belly, his member already becoming excited. He ran his tongue along the stubble of Hawke’s jaw before nipping at the side of his neck and lingered at his accelerating pulse as his hands drew Hawke’s pelvis in close. 

At Hawke’s gentle push, Fenris retreated. Even with only a few inches between them, the distance felt like a mile. He had to touch him, to taste him; he needed it like air, as if he had been suffocating all these years, and had found a sweet breeze at last.

Hawke began to loosen the fastenings on his own armor, so Fenris did the same. He had just finished taking off his gauntlets and breastplate when Hawke’s robe fell heavily to the floor, leaving his chest bare. Fenris ducked in and fastened his lips around one nipple. It hardened instantly as he lapped at the pert nub. Hawke gasped and arched into his mouth, his fingers combing into the elf’s hair and slightly scratching his scalp. Fenris brought his hand up to flick the other nipple as he suckled the one between his teeth. He felt Hawke’s fingers guide his chin back up to meet him with a heated kiss. As their lips brushed and their tongues played, Hawke’s hands undid the buttons on Fenris’s tunic and pushed it off of the elf’s shoulders. For a moment Fenris’s arms were trapped behind him; as he tried to focus on removing the garment Hawke took advantage of that by running his lips down the lyrium line on his sternum. He felt him kiss all the way down to his navel and stopped to probe his belly button with the tip of his tongue.

Fenris groaned as his groin tightened further, and finally flung his tunic away with no care to where it landed. His tongue felt hot on his quivering belly as Hawke’s nimble fingers quickly released the tie to his leggings. Hawke rolled the material down past Fenris’s hips and didn’t hesitate: he clasped Fenris’s buttocks as he slipped his moist lips over the tip of his shaft and swallowed him down.

Fenris gasped as his body jerked and arched back. If not for Hawke’s strong hands holding him firmly he may have fallen, but he was there. The elf’s head fell back as Hawke loved him with his magical mouth, sucked up and down in a wet torrent of sweet torture. When he felt a hint of teeth it was almost the end of him; Fenris gave a loud moan and felt his already shaking knees almost give out. Hawke must have felt it too, because he snaked his arm between Fenris’s feet and lifted one of his thighs to rest on the mage’s solid shoulder. Fenris’s hands flew to Hawke’s hair as new position threw off his balance for a moment, but when he tightened his leg around Hawke’s back he felt stable enough to enjoy himself again. He closed his eyes as the pleasure racked through his body. Hawke’s hands squeezing him from behind, his mouth fucking him from the front, his body holding him upright as he felt himself grow thicker every time Hawke’s throat swallowed him. Fenris’s blood rushed to his ears, he could hardly hear himself moaning Hawke’s name over and over as his hips began to undulate as he neared his release.

“Hawke…” he gasped between moans. “Hawke stop. Stop… too soon!” Fenris dismounted Hawke’s shoulder and stepped back. His body physically whined as the glorious heat around his desperate flesh slid off, but he almost gushed right then and there when he looked at Hawke. He knelt there with not but his trousers on, doing nothing to mask his obvious arousal, as the silhouette of the fire haloed his hair and magnificent physique. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark with dilation, his lips soft and red from just being around his cock… Fenris knelt down and pounced. Hawke caught him in his arms and wrapped them around him in a solid lock as Fenris’s weight pushing him to the floor, their bare chests and pelvis’s rubbing together as his mouth plundering the mage’s moaning lips. Fenris groaned when Hawke’s tongue found his; he could taste himself on him and somehow the idea enflamed him even more. He gasped into Hawke’s mouth as he felt the mage’s fingers brush his chest, finding his nipples and rolled them gently between his fingers. He gave a small pinch and Fenris moaned lowly as he rubbed himself on Hawke’s still clothed erection. He slightly panicked when he felt Hawke’s hand reach down toward his member; he quickly captured the mage’s wrists and pinned them on either side of his head, drawing his pelvis away from Hawke’s wily hips so nothing but the hands on Hawke’s wrists were touching. 

Hawke made a disgruntled noise as he wriggled underneath him. “What is it now?”

“Give me a moment...” Fenris fought to control his breath, willed his body to calm its self, to draw back from the precipice he was already dancing on the edge on.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Hawke asked, his impatience coming through. “Or, third, fourth… whatever-number-we-are-on thoughts. Are you having one right now?”

“No! That is not what is happening right now.”

“For fuck’s sake, Fenris, you’re killing me. Would you care to let me in on what _is_ happening right now?”

“I just needed a moment to… control myself.” He felt a blush burn into his cheeks as Hawke looked at him and comprehended.

“Oh… sorry. I may have over reacted a little.” Fenris looked down at Hawke and saw a matching tint of a blush in his cheeks as well. The elf bent down and tenderly kissed him. 

“After what happened last time, I don’t blame you. I’ve just been wanting this for so long…” They took long sips of each other’s lips, tasting and teasing. 

“I’m here, Fen. I’m here, literally under you in front of a romantic fire, lying on a scratchy as fuck carpet, and there is no place I would rather be.”

Fenris smiled into his lips. “I wanted to make this last, Hawke. I’ve dreamt about all the things I’ve wanted to do with you if I ever got a second chance.” Fenris released his wrists and trailed light kisses down his neck. His lips barely touched, a slight caress as their way to his collarbone. There he gently sucked the skin, and heard Hawke give a little gasp. “I want to memorize every touch…” He ran his hand up and down Hawke’s lean flank and felt the muscles move under his palm as Hawke sighed. “… every taste…” His open mouth kissed its way down to his chest, his tongue lapping up the salt of his skin. His mouth found a pert nipple and heard Hawke slight grunt as he flicked it playfully with the tip of his tongue. “… every sound…” Fenris continued to torture the nub with his tongue as his hand caressed down the line of his sternum to slip under Hawke’s trousers and underwear. There he found him, firm and hot, already a little wet. He palmed the flesh and gently squeezed as Hawke gave a low moan.

“Ah Fen…”

Fenris turned his attention to the other nipple and shifted his touch further down to cup the straining balls and gently roll them in his hand. Hawke’s breath became harsh in a ragged gasp, his hips moving into his palm. 

“Ah! Wait… waitwaitwait!” Hawke’s hand grabbed Fenris’s wrist. The elf looked up as Hawke touched his face.

“I don’t think I can hold out much longer…” he rasped. “We’ll have time. I promise, all the time in the world. But right now I just need you. I need you with me.” He kissed Fenris, his tongue flicking between his lips until Fenris’s tongue came out to meet it. In mutual abandon, Hawke and Fenris’s arms locked around each other as their tongues explored each other’s depths. With a bit of leverage, Fenris rolled their linked bodies over so that Hawke was on top. Their kisses became more frenzied as they wrestled with the last of their clothing. As soon as the last stitch was gone, Hawke was back in Fenris’s arms, their finally naked bodies sliding over each other in glorious friction as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

Fenris pulled up for air. “Hawke…” he sighed as the mage’s mouth nibbled his ear. He fought to focus enough to speak as the feel of Hawke’s teeth on his earlobe sent shivers down to his toes. “… Hawke I want you –“ he stopped to moan as Hawke’s member brushed up and down along his own. “…ah… I want you inside me...”

Hawke ground his hips in a little harder as he left Fenris’s ear to look at him. He was breathless and smiling, but when he saw Fenris’s face, he suddenly looked more serious, his grinding came to a halt.

“Are you sure?” 

“You don’t want to?” Fenris figured he must look uncertain, otherwise they wouldn't be having this discussion.

“Sure, I’d love to, but… have you… _done_ that before?”

Fenris bit his lip nervously before he could stop himself. He shook his head. “No. At least, not that I know of. But you seemed to enjoy it.”

Hawke nodded with a laugh. “Well yeah, I enjoy it quite a lot. That said, it's not for everyone.” His face sobered a little, and he cupped Fenris’s face. “I would love to be inside you, Fen. If you want to try it, I’m game.”

Fenris grinned and pulled Hawke down for a kiss. Hawke dodged his lips, so he began to suck on the mage’s neck instead. “Full disclosure…” Hawke grunted as Fenris sucked at his pulse “… it might hurt a little at first.”

Fenris laughed at that. “Hawke, after having lyrium burned into me, I have no fear of pain. I’m sure I can withstand a little discomfort, especially if it brings you pleasure.”

“It's not just about me you know. It can feel really damn good at both ends. But if you need me to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

Fenris nodded. “Understood.”

Hawke grinned wickedly. “Well then, let’s get you ready to rumble.” Hawke gave him a swift kiss, then suddenly used Fenris’s leg to flip him onto his stomach. Fenris grimaced unpleasantly as the material of the rug under him rubbed abrasively on his nipples and erection. _This_ is _a scratchy ass carpet…_ He got on his hands and knees and opened his legs to allow access. He felt Hawke's warm hands move from his thighs to his buttocks and Fenris sighed in anticipation. True, he had never done this before, but he’d always been curious to what it was like from seeing his previous lovers’ reactions. _To be filled… what a strangely vulnerable and exhilarating thought_. It was an intimate desire he never thought to share with anyone until now.

His body became aquiver as he felt Hawke part his globes and rub his thumbs inside his cleft. It was oddly sensitive through there, an area rarely touched. He waited to feel Hawke’s erection come to him, but it never came. Instead, he felt hot breath and then the sensation of something wet swiped against his entrance…

Fenris gasped as his body gave a strong shudder and his cock twitched. He moaned as the wet thing did it again, and again, shivers of pleasure running through him. It was so strange at first that it took him a moment to realize what was happening. _Its his tongue…_ he thought in a haze… _Maker’s breath, that’s his tongue…_

He moaned at the thought. Fenris had heard of this, but had never received it nor done it to anyone. The act seemed so… intimate, perhaps even depraved. But here he was, his cock beginning to weep and him moaning like a well paid whore as his lover licked him over and over with maddening patience.

Hawke’s hands spread his buttocks further apart and began to circle his rim with the tip of his tongue, the tickle eliciting another wanton sound out of the elf. Fenris’s eyes popped open as he felt the tongue probe and slowly oscillate inside of him. His hands gripped the carpet, his breath was haggard and he felt like his heart was going to burst. Fenris instinctively pushed his hips back into Hawke’s face, seeking more, needing more. But Hawke’s hands held him steady as he went in a little deeper.

 _Damnation, if having him inside me feels even half as good as this…_ Fenris couldn’t wait to find out.

Hawke gave a final wet lick before feeling with his fingers. Fenris bit back a groan as his calloused fingers gently probed the overly sensitive rim. He heard Hawke make a ‘tsk’ sound behind him. He looked back to see a heavy frown on the mage’s face.

“Not wet enough. If I had known I was going to get lucky I would have brought my oil.”

Suddenly remembering, Fenris rolled to his back and gestured to his desk. “In there. Top drawer.”

Fenris propped up to his elbows to watch Hawke go to the desk, and was mesmerized by the sight of his muscles moving gracefully under his skin, and how his arousal bobbed as he walked. After a moment Hawke found his prize – a half empty bottle of oil. Hawke looked at him inquisitively. “In your _desk_ , Fenris?”

The elf merely shrugged as he felt a little blush returning.

Hawke smiled and shook his head. He removed the cork as he came back, but stopped when he smelled it. “Embrium oil?” He asked surprised. “Only Anders makes this.”

Fenris blushed a little harder. “I… put in a special order.” By that, he meant he asked Isabela to get it for him. No one ever questioned her why she needed things. “It reminded me of you.”

A dopey grin spread on Hawke’s face. “That is _so_ romantic!”

Fenris rolled his eyes at the teasing. Deciding to change the mood back, Fenris gave him a smoldering look and beckoned him with a finger. Hawke’s smile turned into a smirk as he knelt between Fenris’s long open legs. He never took his eyes off of Fenris’s as he warmed some oil into his palms and began to spread it over Fenris. The elf purred as Hawke’s slick hands glided between his cheeks and onto his member and everything in between. Soon he felt Hawke’s fingers zero in on their prime target, and sighed as he felt one slide into him a little. There it circled encouragingly as it eased its way in. Besides a bit of pressure, Fenris felt very little. It wasn’t until the second finger started in that he felt a burn. He knows he must have made a face, but the burning sensation was swept away the moment Hawke’s other hand started slowly stroking his shaft. Fenris lay back, his aching body arching into Hawke’s touch as he fought to catch his breath. 

He had no idea how long it went for, a few minutes maybe hours, but it felt like an eternity of maddening pleasure, between Hawke’s fingers moving inside him and his hand petting him enough to distract from the discomfort, but not enough to find release, made him a shuddering mess.

“Hawke…” he groaned. “Hawke please, please do it now.”

He felt Hawke pull his hands away and soon return with more oil. Fenris opened his eyes to watch him coat his own member before putting more around Fenris’s entrance. The mage came forward, his hips cradled between the elf’s thighs as he positioned himself. Fenris ran his hands along Hawke’s skin – he could feel him trembling a little above him, just as eager as he was.

“Are you ready?” Hawke whispered into his lips. 

Fenris nodded and brushed his lips across his. “Yes.”

Hawke took a breath and slowly moved forward; Fenris sighed as he felt a distinctive push at his entrance. He opened his legs and tried to relax as much as he could as the sensation of pressure increased. There was a burn and he accidentally clenched. Hawke’s breathe came out in a rush.

“Ok?” Hawke managed to gasp.

Fenris nodded, and forced himself to relax again. “Keep going.” He distracted himself by watching Hawke’s face. He saw the sweat beading down his brow, his eyes closed and his bottom lip shuddering. It was erotic watching Hawke bite his own lip and fight the moan that caught in his throat. He wanted more. He opened further and lifted his hips into the pressure. The burn was intense, but the sound that came out of Hawke was worth it.

“I’m inside…” he gasped. He was as still as possible. Fenris breathed deep as he accustomed himself to his lover’s intrusion. As an experiment, he flexed his muscles inside.

Hawke hissed and grasped Fenris’s hip hard as his body jerked. “Ah! Oh don’t do that.”

Fenris eased his pressure and watched Hawke’s face relax a bit. “Better?”

Hawke nodded and laughed a little. “I forget how strong you are. You can probably kill me with a single shift of your hips.”

Fenris rather liked the idea. “You mean like this?” He rolled his hips into Hawke’s and watched his eyes close and his mouth open in pleasure.

“Oh yes…” he sighed. “Just like that.” They took it slow. Hawke moved in and out at a steady pace and Fenris soon picked up the rhythm. Fenris admired how Hawke’s breath would shudder sensuously with every thrust. Although he was enjoying bringing his lover so much pleasure, his own felt a bit lacking. The intensity of the friction inside had eased, and there was a lovely sensitivity at his rim as Hawke moved in and out, but not much else.

Hawke continued to thrust as he opened his eyes to look down at him. “Do you like it?” He rasped.

“It is not… unpleasant.”

Hawke’s eyebrow rose a little. “But?”

Fenris thought for a moment. “I thought there would be… more?” He rolled his eyes at his own inadequate articulation. Perhaps Hawke had been right, and this wasn’t for him after all. 

Hawke’s face became thoughtful and then appeared to be inspired. “Here,” he said as he hooked an arm under Fenris’s leg and lifted it to rest upon his shoulder. Fenris thought he must look ridiculous... “Try this,” said Hawke. And then he thrust.

Fenris gave a strangled gasp as a oddly powerful sensation erupted inside him and shuddered through him, leaving a strong tingle all over. “There!” Gasped Hawke triumphantly. “ _That’s_ what we are going for.” He continued to thrust, his cock brushing that spot over and over again; Fenris grunted lustfully as his hips begin to move at their own accord; his fingers slid down and gripped Hawke’s buttocks in the effort to draw him closer.

“More,” he moaned, and felt Hawke’s muscles flex under his hands as he thrust deeper. The sensation increased, and Fenris’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he his mind became hazy and he lost himself in the feeling. Hawke’s sweat mingled with his own as he moaned the elf’s name like a prayer. Hawke lowered himself onto his elbows, his belly brushed against Fenris’s weeping manhood as he kept tempo with his hips. The skin under Fenris’s hands became hot and suddenly his lyrium flared, his skin glowed blue and for a moment Hawke turned gold until the mage realized what happened. The rhythm of his hips slightly faltered as he struggled to regain control of his magic, and the glowing ceased.

“Sorry…” he rasped, clearly distraught. But Fenris found himself strangely unafraid; where three years ago the idea of feeling Hawke’s magic was petrifying, now the idea seemed necessary and even desirable.

“Do it,” he asked, all inhibitions swept away. “I want to feel you.” He found one of Hawke’s hands and linked his fingers with his. “I want to feel all of you.”

Hawke’s eyes locked with his before resting his forehead against his own. With a deep echoing sigh, the mage released his magic. Fenris felt it flow into him everywhere he and Hawke touched, his energy flooding him like a river, his lyrium became bright and heightened every nerve with a surge of power. Somehow he could feel everything, not just his body, but Hawke’s as well, the floor, the fire, his senses exploding. His breathe caught at the feelings, but there was no pain, no battle to fight, just everything. He could feel everything.

He looked at Hawke and saw an angel. His skin glowed with golden runes stylistically patterned on his face and limbs like shimmering tattoos. Hawke’s face had a lightness as he shined, like everything up until now how been a burden, and he had finally rested it down. This was the true face of the mage, Fenris realized. He had said this would happen at emotionally vulnerable moments, and here it was. _This is Hawke’s spirit…_ he marveled. _His heart shining through, and its for me…_

“Move…” Fenris pleaded. Hawke didn’t hesitate, and began his rhythm with renewed vigor. His pace increased, his thrusts insistent as he went wild and deep. Fenris grabbed Hawke tight as he met him thrust for thrust, each movement taking him closer to the edge, every nerve on fire with intense pleasure as the energy in his lyrium seemed to increase.

“Ah Fen…” groaned Hawke. “…it's getting hot… you are so hot inside…” 

His face was all joy and rapture, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he cried out unabashedly. Fenris wished for a moment that he could see them from the outside, golden runes wrapped in rivers of blue lyrium as they clung to each other and moved together in harmony. He didn’t know where one left off and the other began, his pleasure was Hawke’s and vice versa. Energy coiled through him touching every part of him, his body light and full all at once as he surrendered to the power of their glorious joining. 

Hawke’s runes grew brighter still as his thrusts became more rapid. Fenris could feel his release nearing as he felt Hawke flex inside of him.

“Ah! Fen, I’m close!” Called out Hawke hoarsely. Fenris gave a shout as Hawke’s hand reached between them and began to stroke his wet cock in quick jerks. “Come with me… come with me…” chanted Hawke. The elf’s lyrium brightened as his toes curled and his back arched. Fenris’s throat opened into a blissful moan as he began to come.

“Ah! Hawke! Ah… _ahh… Garret_!” Fenris gave a final cry as he erupted between them, his now drenched body clenched around his lover and in the next moment he felt Hawke’s hips stutter as he shouted in joy and filled Fenris with the rush of his spend. Hawke melted on top of Fenris as his body shook and shuddered, the runes upon his skin dimmed and vanished, as well as the elf’s blue lyrium. There they lay as their hearts slowed and the fire crackled.

Hawke sighed as he raised his head. “Maker’s Breath, Fen. That was amazing…” he said with a sweaty grin. Fenris lay quietly, his eyes closed and his thoughts blissfully quiet as he felt lingering tingles of euphoria throughout his entire being. 

He felt Hawke’s placid member slide out of him as he shifted himself a little to the side so he wasn’t fully lying on him. In truth, Fenris didn’t mind his weight, but it was thoughtful of him. He felt the mage gently kiss his temple and cheekbone.

“You ok, Fen? Fen? _Fenris_?” 

“I’m here,” replied the elf weakly. His tongue felt a bit thick as he fought to form words.

Hawke sighed in relief. The mage smiled and stroked Fenris’s damp face fondly. “Thank the Maker. I was afraid I’d killed you with my magnificent penis.”

Fenris laughed. Perhaps he was just drunk from his own orgasm, but he found that absurdly funny. “What a way to go.” He reached up to Hawke and drew him down to taste his beautiful lips. They lingered in that kiss, and Fenris could not recall ever feeling so content as he was in that moment. 

“Do you have something to drink?” asked Hawke, “I’m feeling a bit parched.”

Fenris smiled. “I think I have just the thing.” He stood and walked to the doorway. He heard Hawke give a whistle.

“Wow, you’re walking pretty good for a man who just got ridden for the first time. My first time on the receiving end had me walking bowlegged; I had to study up on my healing spells just so my mother wouldn't catch on.”

Fenris thought about it. “Actually I feel… good.” That was a bit of an understatement, for in fact he felt amazing. Invigorated. There was definitely a sense that things inside of him had shifted, but more like the feeling of having a good deep stretch, and nothing he would describe as ‘pain’.

“Me too,” said Hawke, sitting cross legged in front of the fire. “Usually after a bout _that_ good I’m ready for a nap. But I feel weirdly energized.” 

“Perhaps it was the energy flow?” Pondered Fenris.

“Could be. I hadn’t felt it that strongly before.” He shrugged and flashed a cheeky grin. “Maybe it's just us?”

Fenris slanted him a cocky smirk. “Perhaps.” He turned and made his way nude to the cellar. He had drunk all the wine Danarius had kept there, but Varric had purchased several bottles on his behalf since then. He still had six bottles left of a nice red the dwarf had found for him, and grabbed two bottles. He stopped at the kitchen to warm some water and found a couple clean rags. While he waited for the warm water, he dampened one of the rags in cold water and began to wash his belly and chest. He smiled. He couldn’t believe he had fought this for so long. He truly was a fool, but he was a fool who had been given a second chance, and this time he was not going to ruin it. He cleaned his groin before getting fresh water for between his legs. He was already wet there, he felt Hawke’s seed trickling down his thighs as he walked. As he cleaned himself he couldn’t help but flash to the extraordinary feeling of Hawke moving inside him, and how delicious it was to be covered in his spend. He wanted more. He thought of how casually Hawke sat in front of the fireplace; his hair damp and an easy smile as his strong body gleamed alluringly in the firelight, with his thighs spread comfortably and his beautiful cock flushed and at rest. He wanted to make it hard again. To take it into his mouth and swallow him as his runes glow like phoenix’s while his body shudders and he screams his name as he comes down his throat...

Fenris felt himself begin to grow hard as he absently stroked himself with his rag. He was surprised : usually it took longer for him to recover enough for another round, but it was by no means an unwelcome surprise. He shook his head with a grin, wet a fresh rag in the warm water he made, and gathered up the wine before heading back upstairs. 

Upon returning he found Hawke adding more wood to the fire before settling back on the floor. Fenris was unapologetically pleased to find him still naked. 

“Ooo! Is that for me?” Asked Hawke when he saw the bottles in his arms. Fenris handed him the still warm clothe. With a quick “thank you” Hawke began to clean himself off with it. Fenris removed the cork of the wine with his teeth before giving it to Hawke. “Oh my…” drawled the mage. Fenris saw him pause his cleaning to ogle openly at his half hardened member. “Is that _also_ for me?”

Fenris chuckled a little. “Yes, but nothing that can’t wait.” He removed the cork on his bottle and settled next to his lover by the fire. “Besides, I promised you wine.”

Hawke clinked his bottle to the elf’s. “Cheers!” They took a long swig from their bottles. Fenris sighed as the wine ran over his tongue; Varric had described it as a being “smokey with tannic roughness and a bold plum finish,” or something. Fenris didn’t really care, but he liked how it tasted well enough. 

The mage seemed to like it as well as he had not come up for air yet. Fenris watched his throat work as he drank strongly from his bottle, the muscles in his neck stretched as his head tilted back. A slight drop of wine escaped his lips and trickled its way down his neck. Fenris was mesmerized as his eyes followed it down. It was ridiculous how sexy he found that…

Hawke lowered the bottle with a slight gasp as he caught his breath. Fenris slowly leaned over him and held eye contact as he lowered himself to the mage’s chest. Hawke watched as the elf found where the trail of wine ended and collected the drop with the tip of his tongue. Fenris growled. The wine mixed with the salt of Hawke’s body was intoxicating, and his tongue slowly followed its path, tasting his way up the mage’s body, along his neck, all the way back to Hawke’s sweet wine coated lips. Fenris licked those lips, collecting every drop, before delving deep with his tongue into Hawke’s heady depths. The mage moaned into his mouth as he explored and savored the taste. Fenris purred as Hawke’s tongue stroked his and he felt the mage’s hand cup the back of his head.

“That is a nice red wine you’ve got there, Fenris,” drawled Hawke between kisses.

“Mmmm, it doesn’t taste nearly as good as you.” Fenris gently nipped Hawke's lower lip, earning him a slight groan before Hawke began to play with the elf’s earlobe with his teeth.

Fenris sighed as the pleasant tingles shivered from his ear to his groin. He felt himself tighten as the blood pulsed to his member and he was grateful not to have to worry about having armor to remove. 

An odd thought occurred to him and his eyes roamed the floor. He saw Hawke’s clothes had been swept into a pile on the sofa, but _his_ things were no where to be found…

“Hawke?”

“Hmm?” hummed the mage as his tongue flicked the shell of Fenris’s pointed ear. 

Fenris shuddered at the tickle. “Where are my clothes?”

He felt Hawke hesitate for a moment before humming something incoherent but obviously deflective before resuming. The mage began to suckle on his earlobe before Fenris gently drew him back to look at him. “Hawke. Did you _hide_ my clothes?”

Of course he already knew the answer, and Hawke knew that he knew. So the saucy mage rolled his eyes and made a “hmm” sound as if trying to remember before replying. “Yesh.”

Fenris sighed, perplexed at his lover’s little game. “Why?”

Hawke shrugged. “It was just a precaution. Just in case you… got cold feet again.” He gave a cheeky smile.

Fenris’s heart melted. He knew better. Although Hawke said it like a joke, his grin was strained, and there was real hurt underneath his comical tone.

The elf nodded. “I suppose I deserve that.” He cupped Hawke’s face and looked into his sweet eyes. “I am yours,” he swore to him. “And I will never leave you like that again.”

Hawke’s eyes brightened before he gave him a tender kiss. The mage placed his hand’s over the elf’s and rested his forehead to his.

“Good thing too,” he said, his tone light again, “or I’ll set your sweet ass on fire.”

Fenris chuckled before going in for another kiss. “Well then,” he said as he kissed down the column of Hawke’s throat. He let one hand slide to Hawke’s chest and brush against his firm nipple with his thumb. The mage’s pulse in his neck jumped and Fenris caught it in his mouth as he sucked at the sensitive skin. He cradled Hawke’s head in place as his other hand toyed with the pert nub, and the mage sighed and began to tremble. Fenris released the suction on his neck with a _pop_ and whispered hotly in his ear. “I suppose it's about time I start making it up to you…”

Fenris slightly the twirled nipple between his fingers and pulled back to watch Hawke bite his lip with a moan. The elf looked at his lover’s lap and could see he was as excited as he was. He noticed the wet rag Hawke had used to clean himself on the floor beside him. Fenris picked it up and showed it to him.

“Why Hawke,” he said playfully meeting the mage’s heated eyes, “I do believe you missed a spot? Please, allow me…” With a wicked gleam in his eye, Fenris pointedly tossed the rag away and slowly descended mouth first toward Hawke’s arousal.

Hawke’s belly vibrated with laughter, but it chocked off into a heated gasp as Fenris found his prize. The mage’s hand settled in his hair and he could already feel his lyrium begin to come alive as it came in contact with his magic.

 _Oh yes…_ he thought as he drew a delightfully wanton moan out of his champion… _this was only the beginning._

\-----

 

It was morning. Fenris hated it. Morning meant he had to wake up, but he didn’t want to. He had been having the most wonderful dream: he dreamed that Hawke had forgiven him and that they had made love by the fire. In the dream, Hawke’s magic would excite his lyrium and gave both men a temporary boost of energy, making it possible for them to couple multiple times all over the house. Which they did. Again on the floor, once on the desk, in the cellar (whilst getting more wine), until making their way to the bedroom for another few rounds. Finally out of sheer exhaustion they passed out in each other’s arms. It was the best dream Fenris had ever had, and he wasn’t ready to wake from it. That’s what he mentally told the offending ray of sun shining in his eyes before rolling away from it with a groan.

That was when he felt him lying there. He opened his eyes and sat up to see his mage softly snoring beside him. Hawke’s face was soft as he slumbered, splayed out on his stomach and cuddling one of his pillows.

A rush of warmth and relief flooded Fenris as he looked at him, for it was not a dream that brought him here this time, but reality. It made his heart ache, but it was a sweet ache, one that he welcomed.

He scooted closer and softly stretched his body along Hawke’s sleeping form. Fenris tenderly kissed the line of his lover’s broad back before snuggling in. The mage felt him and stirred a little before going back to sleep. Fenris rested his chest on Hawke’s back and happily nestled his face into Hawke’s neck. He sighed as he inhaled his scent, felt his heartbeat, and listened to his sleeping breath. There was no more perfect moment than this, as he began to drift back to sleep…

There was a thudding at the front door. Even from here Fenris could hear it and he growled at the intrusion. Hawke began to stretch under him as he started to wake.

“Hmmm,” Hawke groaned. “What is that?”

Paying no head to the banging at the door, Fenris shook his head and wrapped himself tighter around Hawke. “Eh, just ignore it. Go back to sleep.”

For a moment he seemed to comply. Hawke took Fenris’s hand and cuddled it closer into his chest as he began to drift again. That is, until they heard the voice.

“Hawke! Broody! Are you in there? Anyone home?”

Hawke got up with a start. “That’s Varric! Oh shit I was supposed to meet up with him today!”

The mage untangled himself from the sheets and sprang from the bed. He made it two steps before suddenly crashing to the floor ass first. Fenris peeked over.

“You alright?” 

“Fucking bottles!” Cussed Hawke as he tossed one aside, hitting the other one with a clang. The dwarf was still insistently banging on the door.

“Hold on, I’m coming!” Hawke yelled at the door as he found his feet. The knocking stopped.

 _That’s what_ he _said…_ Fenris smiled to himself and managed not to say it out loud. 

“Maker, where are my fucking clothes?” Hawke bolted bare assed out of the bedroom and presumably to the study. Fenris shook his head and chuckled. Although he did not appreciate his snuggle time with Hawke being interrupted, it was almost worth it to see the Champion of Kirkwall be defeated singlehandedly by his own empty wine bottle.

Fenris looked around the room. He still didn’t know where Hawke had hidden his clothes at, so he shrugged and gathered the sheet on the bed to wrap around his waist whilst he followed Hawke to the front door. He saw Hawke run barefoot from the study and leap down the stairs to the door, all the while attempting to fasten the belt on his trousers and tuck his shirt in. 

The elf didn’t think he could love him anymore if he tried. Sheet in place, he casually made his way down the staircase.

He heard the door open.

“There you are!” Varric exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Isabela said she saw you here last night, and Bodhan said you never came home. Where have you been all day?”

“Sleeping,” he heard Hawke say simply. Fenris could almost hear the slight blush in the mage’s ears.

“ _‘Sleeping’_? It's three o’clock in the afternoon. What were you doing all night?”

“ _Not_ sleeping,” Fenris stated plainly. Hawke and Varric swung their gaze to the elf, casually leaning against the entryway, arms crossed and wearing nothing but a sheet precariously perched on his waist and a smug expression on his face. Sure enough, Hawke turned a bit pink. Varric however looked stunned - then absolutely thrilled.

“Aaaah!” The dwarf said as a grin spread across his dopey face. “ _That’s_ my boy!”

Hawke ran his hand over his face as though trying to wipe the embarrassment off of him, but Fenris just rolled his eyes. He had no idea which one of them was the “boy” Varric meant, but the rogue soon had more to say.

“My readers will be thrilled! They were so disappointed when the two of you broke up – what a wonderful new chapter this will make: _Slaves of Lust_ , or _Love Unchained_? Oh! _Champion of the Heart!_ "

“Sweet Maker, Varric, please no…” 

“Was there something you wanted, dwarf?” Interjected Fenris.

That got him back on track. “Oh right! Hawke, Hubbard was looking for you. When he couldn’t find you he started hounding _me._ Apparently the miners haven’t been in contact with him for a few days and he’s starting to panic a little. Probably thinks their unionizing or something. Seeing as how you have a good rapport with them, he’d like you to go by and check things out.”

“Yeah sure, heaven forbid the interruption of the status quo.”

Varric shrugged. “Where would we be without the bureaucrats here to send good people to do their jobs?”

“Well, the pays’ not good, but at least the hike will help me keep my girlish figure.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be in danger of that anytime soon,” Varric winked at Fenris. The elf lowered his eyes so the rogue wouldn’t see the ghost of a smile forming. After all, his nickname was Broody, and he had a reputation to keep.

Hawke laughed. “Right then. Go see Anders, see if he wants to come with. Fen and I will meet you at the market in an hour.”

“Will do, see you then.” Varric turned to go.

“Oh! And grab us some food will you? I’m starving!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you something, you randy little lovebirds!” Varric waved and disappeared as he turned the corner.

Hawke closed the door with a sigh.

“Well! Now that Varric knows, soon all of Kirkwall will be wagging their tongues about us. Isabela will be disappointed; I suppose now she’ll have to find out what color your underwear is from Varric’s book about us. Joke’s on her of course, since you don’t wear any – “

Hawke’s sentence got caught off as Fenris grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him soundly. Hawke soon relaxed into Fenris’s lips and ran his hands down the elf’s back and came to rest just above Fenris’s sheet.

“Good morning,” Fenris murmured against his lips.

“Good morning to you as well, sunshine,” Hawke drew Fenris in closer and nuzzled his hair. The mage’s warm palms caressed up and down along his spine, making Fenris purr. Hawke gave an agitated groan. “Maker’s balls, I’m such an idiot…”

“Why do you say that?”

“I only asked for an hour. That only gives us enough time to bathe, get ready, I have to stop at my estate to get my gear… and all I can think about is going back to bed with you in this outfit.”

Fenris smirked and blew into Hawke’s ear. “We could save a little time if we… _share_ a bath?”

Hawke’s groan was priceless. “Andraste’s tits, Fen. If you get me in there with you I can guarantee that bathing is going to be the last thing on my mind.”

“You’re right of course.” Fenris and brushed a kiss across his lips. “So how about you go get my armor from where ever you’ve hidden it…” he skimmed another kiss light as air, “…and I’ll get in the bath first.”

Fenris pulled the sheet off in one motion and dropped it to the floor. Without missing a beat, he walked naked towards the bathing room and smiled smugly at Hawke’s audible frustration.

“Fen, you are _evil!_ ”


	3. The Final Battle - Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders has blown up the Chantry and chaos has broken out in Kirkwall. This chapter is named after the song Arrow by Rag’n’Bone Man.

It was dark in the gallows, only a bit of dim light shone from the few candles within. The tension was high in the room as the mages paced, prayed, and waited. Soon the templars would come and everyone knew it. Meredith and Orsino had pushed Hawke into choosing a side when all he wanted was peace. But in the end, peace was impossible. Given Hawke’s actions the last six years, Fenris was unsurprised when he sided with the mages, and now here they were, awaiting death. At least they were among their friends. All but Sebastian had stayed to help after Anders’ terrorism, and even Anders himself was still here. He wanted to kill him so badly; he was clearly insane and seemed to even seek death. But Hawke had said no. Fenris knew it had not been an easy choice for him; Hawke considered Anders a friend, and they were both mages, but Anders had crossed a serious line. The look on Hawke’s face had been devastating when he realized what Anders/Justice had done, but even then he couldn’t bring himself to kill him. He had insisted that he needed Anders’ help to make things right, and perhaps that was true, but Fenris thought differently, and had even told him so. And yet… Anders may have blown up those people, but the powder keg of Kirkwall had already been rigged to blow, all they had been waiting for was a match to set it ablaze. Apparently Anders was that match. 

Fenris could have left, and his dark wolf kept telling him so. But the dark wolf could put a muzzle on it and go to the darkest corners of the Fade for all he cared. Hawke may be the Champion of Kirkwall to these people, but to Fenris he was the love of his life and he would stay for him. 

He looked over where Hawke was talking to Varric. The Champion of Kirkwall had been talking to each of his companions in turn giving hope and making amends; saying everything but “goodbye,” but of course it was implied. They could all die here, but their loyalty made them strong. Hawke had that effect on each of them, taking broken people and piecing them together with the parts of other broken people until a whole was created. Apart, they were vulnerable and weak, but together they were mighty. There was a chance. Fenris would even fight along side with the blood mage and the abomination if it meant he had a chance to spend one more day with Hawke. Of course, it didn’t mean he had to like it…

Hawke finished his talks with the others, and came over to him, his final companion. Hawke looked tired, but he still managed to wrestle one more smile for Fenris as he approached.

“Here I am, about to defend these mages in hopeless battle.” Fenris stated theatrically. “You lead me to strange places, Hawke.”

“I’ll take you to stranger places than this, just watch.” Hawke winked.

“A tempting offer,” the elf joked. He looked at the mage, and knew that although he would do everything in his power to keep him safe, that anything could happen. He would not say goodbye, but he had to tell him now. “I… may not get the chance to say this again. Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke.” He gently cupped Hawke’s stubbled cheek. “Promise me you won’t die. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”

Hawke took his hand in kind. “I don’t make that promise unless you do.”

“Nothing is going to keep me from you,” Fenris pulled Hawke close and sealed his promise with a kiss. They held tight and poured the depths of their feelings into that kiss as though it was to be their final moment to ever do so again. _It wasn’t enough. Everyday of being with him wasn’t ever going to be enough, not for everything I want to tell him, share with him, do with him. Their life had just begun and now it could be ripped away. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough..._

Fenris only drew back when air became necessary. He looked around and saw that everyone was pointedly not looking at their direction, and some even had their backs turned. He noticed a dark corner in the back side of the room that appeared to be vacant. He took Hawke’s hand and led him there and tucked them behind a pillar. It was as shallow and dark as a broom closet, but it would do.

Hawke looked around apprehensively, but as soon as he met his eyes Fenris knew he was on board.

“Fen…” sighed Hawke. Fenris gently shushed him with a brush of his thumb before drawing him in for a kiss. Hawke succumbed in a flash, and in a moment a Fenris felt himself pinned to the stone wall with Hawke’s mouth slanted over his own, their tongues tangled as Hawke’s body pressed flush against him. Fenris moaned into his mouth as his lyrium surged through his body. He could see Hawke’s runes begin to glow on his face and bare arms and there was a lovely static tingle where their mouths met.

Fenris fumbled for Hawke’s belt as the mage used his teeth to work his glove off. Hawke hissed when Fenris’s clawed gauntlet managed to release the cords of his trousers and touched his heated flesh. The mage brushed Fenris’s dangerous hand away and worked himself the rest of the way out with his bare hand, his member already hard and quivering in anticipation. Fenris loosened his belt to get to the tie to his leggings, and the moment it was done Hawke reached his gloveless hand inside and wrapped his fingers around him. Fenris’s head tilted back as he swallowed the moan threatening to release. His breath deepened as Hawke palmed him until he was a panting mess. 

Fenris bit back a whine when he stopped, but he only did so long enough to work his engorged member out of his leggings entirely. Hawke licked his hand a few times before reaching down again to grasp both of their lengths and began to stroke them together.

Both men groaned aloud, their lips pressed together the only thing to muffle the sounds as Hawke squeezed them with urgency. The friction made Fenris see red as he clung to Hawke’s shoulders; his lyrium buzzing as he felt their cocks begin to weep. Hawke’s calloused hands could slide up and down easier, and the mage began to moan loudly. Fenris cuddled his head close so Hawke’s sensual sounds were muffled against his neck, his breathe panting hot against him as Hawke’s hands sped up.

Hawke reduced his moans into a strangled sigh as his hips moved with his hands. “Oh…” he sighed into Fenris, fighting to keep his voice low. “…oh… oh…”

The elf was close, his hips were arching into Hawke’s hand and the back of his head was scrapping against the stone wall as he threw his head back. He didn’t care, because his mouth was wide open silent all but for the desperate gasps. He felt like every sound he held back went straight down to his cock, collecting, making him fuller, thicker, his body desperate for release. He nearly screamed when Hawke’s thumb started to rub back and forth across their slick tips…

Fenris lunged forward and bit the hood of Hawke’s robe to hide his sounds as he came. Stars danced in front of his eyes as he grunted and clung to Hawke who finished in time with him, the mage’s face firmly tucked into the side of Fenris’s neck as he smothered his shout. Hawke’s hand slowed, milking them as they rode out their release. Hawke leaned against him and the wall, both men silent but for their moist post coital breaths.

Fenris cradled his love as he turned his head to kiss Hawke’s temple. The mage responded by giving his neck a nuzzle before meeting the elf’s lips with his own. Fenris noted the hot musk of Hawke’s mouth, the earthy and slightly pungent aroma of his skin, how he would softly sigh against his lips every time he touched his tongue with his own, how tall he was, how the soap in his hair smelled of pine… Every detail of this moment was etched into Fenris’s being. Whether he died years or only moments from now, he wanted to remember this. 

Fenris rested his forehead against Hawke’s as they caught their breath. 

“I am yours…” he whispered.

“And I am yours.” Hawke whispered back, his words filling Fenris’s heart with joy.

They straightened their armor and didn’t bother cleaning up, their dried seed only one of many stains amongst the blood and sweat they had accumulated fighting their way here.

“Are you ready for this?” Asked Hawke.

He was more than ready. The elf’s body was invigorated from the energy exchange, rejuvenated from sex, and every fiber of his being that was built to survive and to fight was awakened, but this time he fought because he chose to. He wouldn’t just fight for Hawke, he would fight for _them._

“Let them come,” he replied.

They walked out of their corner hand in hand. Most of the mages _still_ pointedly didn’t look at them, but judging by the smug look on Varric and Isabela’s faces, he and Hawke’s interlude hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“You know,” whispered Hawke, “that’s probably what _they_ said –“

“Shut your mage mouth, Champion,” growled Fenris.

Hawke chuckled deviously.

One of the mages ran through the door. “They’ve broken the perimeter! They are coming!”

“Take your positions!” Ordered Hawke, the playful smile gone, and the Champion returned. The mages and their companions took their places for the first wave. Hawke gave Fenris’s hand a final squeeze before releasing it; staff and sword at the ready they waited until all hell broke loose…

\------

_After the Blood Mage Orsino and the Abomination Meredith had been defeated by his hand, the Champion of Kirkwall became a rallying cry, a symbol of hope to all mages that the templars could be defied. Once reinforcements arrived at Kirkwall, the Champion and his companions had already vanished from the city, no one within the city knowing anything about their whereabouts._

_Fugitives on the run, over time circumstances separated the companions and they all went their separate ways._

_All, with the exception of Fenris. Together he and the Champion traveled the lands, adventure and romance forging their path before them._

_But that is another story._

 

The End


	4. Bonus Chapter! Hanging at The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Bonus Chapter! This is a fun little additive that takes place right after Fenris breaks up with Hawke on their first night of passion. Unlike the rest of Bittersweet, this chapter is told from Hawke’s POV. 
> 
> Sometimes you just need a little help from your friends.
> 
> Enjoy!

— - - -

_“I’m sorry. I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy… just for a little while. Forgive me…”_

__

 

__

The elf’s parting words danced around the maypole of Hawke’s mind. It was a busy night at The Hanged Man; the drunken patrons were laughing and talking, and a few small fights had broken out, but quickly intercepted by the barkeep and the off duty guards.

__

Hawke barely noticed any of it as he sat at his stool and drank an ale as dark as his mood; the night’s events playing out in his head as he picked through every detail, every word, hoping to pinpoint where exactly everything had gone tits-up. He’d much rather be alone, but at the moment he couldn’t stand to be at the house. Plus, there was booze here.

__

_Maker, what a terrible day…_ Between watching a woman’s heart being torn out of her chest (never his favorite part of the day), having the best sex he’d ever had with a man he’d wanted for three years, and then having that same man walk out on him, it had been a mixed bag of shit treats. The “best sex” part just amplified it.

__

It had been such a slap in the face to wake up and see him completely dressed and just standing there like… like… _Like he’d just made a huge mistake…_

__

Hawke rubbed his eyes, as if he could wipe away the memory. Honestly, the only thing that could have made this day worse, was if Fenris had left some money on the nightstand before stepping on his heart on the way out.

__

Hawke sighed, took another long swig, and stared at the stain on the wooden bar. The one roughly shaped like a nug smoking a pipe.

__

“Oh my,” said Isabela as she slid into the stool next to his. “I haven’t seen _that_ face since your brother ran off to be a Templar. Something on your mind?”

__

He didn’t reply, but his silence only seemed to provoke her curiosity further.

__

“Is it a secret?” asked the rogue. “No no, don’t tell me. Let’s see… its something to do with your mother. No, that’s not it. You just found out you are terminally ill? No, if that was the case, you’d be off fighting a dragon or other to prove you are still alive or something, and you look far too mopey for that. Lover’s quarrel, perhaps? What? Did you get dumped or something?”

__

Hawke gave her a sour look and her teasing smile opened into a shocked stare. “Well bless my blushing buttcheeks, that’s it, isn’t it? What happened? Was it Fenris? Did something happen with Fenris? Sweet and Salty Maker, tell me _all_ the things that happened with Fenris!”

__

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled into his cup.

__

Isabela glanced down into his pint. “Well not with just _that_ you’re not.” She placed her fingers in her mouth and gave a high whistle that made Hawke’s ears feel like crying. “ _Barkeep!_ Two more bitters for me and my friend!” She took Hawke’s heavy arm and led him reluctantly to one of the empty tables. “Now then, we’ll sit, we’ll drink, and you will tell me every blessed detail…”

__

 

__

_Three or four drinks later…_

__

 

__

“… And that was it. He just _left!_ He said ‘sorry… I’m a fool… blah blah, wanted to be happy... asked for my forgiveness’ and left.” Hawke took another swig only to find there was no more. He slammed the useless thing onto the table. “Apparently my magical asshole somehow shook loose some of his memories, but he couldn’t remember any of them… he seemed pretty upset by that…”

__

Isabela, whom was perched on the edge of her seat, her nails tapping on her pretty chin, finally spoke. “If it had been me, I would have suggested having more sex to shake more out of him.”

__

Hawke nodded and pointed at himself in vigorous validation.“That’s what _I_ said! … He did not appreciate the offer. So! I had the choice to either go out and get drunk, or stay home and… change my sheets…” His head fell miserably into his hands. “Son of a bitch, Izzy, what am I going to do?” 

__

She scoffed, taking a long sip from her ale. “Sweet Maker, you’ve got it bad. I don’t envy you.”

__

“Why… _why_ do I fall for the broody ones? They’re so much work…” 

__

“You know what? You’re right.” Isabela set her pint down with a thud. “And there’s only one thing to do.”

__

“Which is?” 

__

“Get over him.”

__

Hawke looked up, certain it was the third or forth ale playing with his hearing. “ ‘ _Get over him?_ ’”

__

“That’s right. There are plenty of fish in the sea, handsome, and most of them would be dying to get into bed with the Champion of Kirkwall.”

__

Hawke laughed at that. “Yes, and I’m sure at least half of them would love the opportunity to get me in a vulnerable position so they can stick a knife between my ribs.”

__

“But which half? Now _that’s_ what I call exciting,” she winked.

__

“I’m all for a little danger, but not so much to want to take it to bed with me.” _Like Fenris?_ Hawke pushed the words away before the hypocrisy set in.

__

Isabela tilted her head, the gold at her throat glinting in the dim light. “There’s Anders.”

__

His eyebrows perked up. “Anders?”

__

“Why not? He’s a mage too, he’s sweet, boringly interested in doing the right thing, like you do. He likes cats… he’s also totally into you.”

__

Hawke looked to the side and nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

__

“So how bout it?”

__

Hawke rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea. Anders is a great guy and a good friend, but the whole _Justice_ split personality thing has me a little on edge…”

__

Isabela quirked a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “Unlike men that can pull hearts out of people’s chests?”

__

He felt the sting and the blush that followed it. “Touché.”

__

“Fine, not Anders. What about Merrill?”

__

He gave an involuntary shudder and shook his head. “Blood magic is a boner killer.”

__

“Sebastian?”

__

“Oh Sebastian? Yeah he’s perfect. A little too perfect, actually… Plus he’s not into guys.”

__

“Really? Well then I might hit that.”

__

“Happy hunting. I wish you luck on getting into that chastity belt of his.”

__

The pirate laughed. “Sweetie, _look_ at me.” He obliged as she gestured to her mind boggling curves. “Not only do I look like this, but I am an expert lock-picker. Between the two, there is no chastity belt in all of Thedas that’s safe from me.”

__

He chuckled. “I don’t believe all the sailor stories I hear, but I believe that.”

__

Isabela paused pensively for a moment. “What about me?”

__

Hawke gave her a carefully blank stare, not entirely sure if she was pulling his leg or not.

__

Isabela leaned in, her considerable cleavage on display. “You know I don’t do relationships. There would be no strings, no commitments, just a good time between friends. And I think we could have a _really_ good time…” she stood and shoved the table to the side, the sound of wood sliding upon the floor drawing curious eyes. Before he could blink she was in his lap, her delectably curvy thighs straddling him in his chair with her mouthwatering breasts inches away from his face. Panicked, Hawke held his hands to out to his sides, and not knowing where to look, he glued his eyes to his friend’s face. The dusky rogue’s golden eyes met his as she traced a finger across his cheek.

__

“I don’t say this to many people, Hawke, but I care about you. I hate to see you hurting, but if you let me, I can make you feel good…” Her thumb caressed the line of his bottom lip, and her voice dropped to a seductive purr. “You can take it out on me. The pain. The anger. The confusion. If you let me, I can make you feel better. I can help you forget. If you let me…” 

__

_All I wanted was to be happy… just for a little while…_

__

Something broke. He wasn’t sure what, or even exactly why, but suddenly it felt like something deep cracked inside of him, and all he could do was look up at the sinfully ravishing goddess straddling him and say in a small, broken voice:

__

“I think I love him, Izzy…”

__

Isabela’s face softened, the passion in her gaze turned to pity as his face slightly crumbled and his eyes began to burn. “Oh sweetheart…” She drew him close, cradled his head to her chest and gently stroked his hair like a child. He returned the embrace and let her hold him as his shoulders shook and his breath hitched. 

__

The hurt leaked out of him little by little and after a while, the feeling passed he was more himself again. However, Hawke soon became aware of two things: both of which were squished into the side of his face...

__

“Isabela,” he mumbled into her boobs.

__

“Shhh,” she soothed, still petting his head and holding him securely to her.

__

“Isabela?” he tried again, this time with a light tap to her arm.

__

“Hmm?”

__

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the gesture and your tits are epic… but I’m having a hard time breathing here, and people are starting to stare.”

__

She didn’t let go, but he felt Isabela’s head turn to the patrons currently ogling the pair of them in their awkward embrace. “Making a mosaic, are we? _Beat it!_ ” she yelled, channeling her captain voice. They scurried like cockroaches.

__

“There, is that better?” she said sweetly. 

__

“Yes, now about you holding me…”

__

“Hush now,” Isabela said stroking his hair again. “Let me comfort you, at least let me do that.” She held him tighter and air was getting scarce.

__

“The ‘comforting’ is not the issue!” he exclaimed, muffled. “It’s you killing me softly with your – “

__

Isabela gasped in excitement, her arms squeezing like a python.

__

“I have an idea!”

__

*”Does it exclude smothering me?”* he weezed.

__

Isabela pushed him away and he got dizzy from the oxygen that suddenly rushed to his brain.

__

Glee danced in Isabela’s eyes. “I heard about some bandits in the city that were giving the alienage a hard time. How about we go beat the hell out of ‘em and steal their shit?”

__

Anticipation flooded Hawke’s blood and a grin broke out over his face. “That’s a _great_ idea!” He stood, simultaneously grabbing Isabela about the waist and setting her to her feet. “ _Barkeep!_ ” he shouted with renewed vigor, “One more round for the road! We’ve got some bad guys to slay!”

__

“And loot to pillage!” added Isabela. The waitress passed amongst them with their drinks. Hawke held up his pint in a toast:

__

“To getting over the disappointment of bad sexual episodes!” 

__

“Throw the baggage out!” cheered Isabela. They toasted with a _clank!_ and chugged down their ales. Hawke paid their bill with a generous tip to the waitstaff, and sauntered unsteadily out of The Hanged Man with Isabela supporting him with an arm around his waist. 

__

The night air felt amazing, the smell of Kirkwall filling his lungs as the booze started to kick in.

__

“Hey Hawke? Say that thing again.”

__

He rolled his eyes, and immediately regretted it as the world did a small loopty-loop. “No. I’ve already said it twice.”

__

“Come on, just one more time. Please? Please?”

__

Hawke sighed. “Alright, but this is the last time, then no more, hmm?”

__

She nodded ecstatically.

__

Hawke stopped walking, cleared his throat, and looked down at Isabela through thick eyelashes. He engaged the deepest register of his diaphragm and said in his best commanding Fenris voice : “ _Get on the bed_.”

__

Isabela clapped her hands and squealed with joy. “Sweet baby Herald, that never get’s old! Now tell me the part again when he pushed you up against the wall – “

__

“ _No,_ Izzy!”

__

So off they went to the alienage, more than a little drunk. They found some bad guys, killed them, took their stuff, and slept it off at Merrill’s place.

__

It would be a few days before Hawke saw Fenris again. Fenris didn’t bring it up, and neither did he. Miraculously, neither did Isabela. They were civil, courteous, and awkward as fuck, but if Fenris wanted to pretend nothing had happened, fine. Given enough time, Hawke knew the pain would ease. That one day, his heart wouldn’t throb every time he saw him. Or he wouldn’t get that sharp twist in his gut when Fenris got hurt in a fight. That the hot flashes of Fenris’s hands on him and in him would some day burn less brightly. That some day he would find someone else, and not feel that glint of anger at the thought of _him_ with someone else. He and Fenris had been friends, and he knew that one day they could be friends again. Maybe. Possibly. 

__

He hoped…

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Praise and/or constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
